


20sucksteen challenge

by pearl_o, Red



Category: X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-17 11:35:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 8,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5867740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearl_o/pseuds/pearl_o, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Red/pseuds/Red
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All the mod-written ficlets from <a href="http://20sucksteen.tumblr.com/">the 20sucksteen challenge on tumblr</a>, archived for posterity. </p><p>Content notes and pairings can be found on individual chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Erika/Charlotte, college AU

“Just try it on,” Charlotte pleads. “Come on, what’s so bad about it, anyway?”

Erika–who’s already had _more_ than enough to say about this whole matter–now appears beyond words. She gives Charlotte a flat look, the kind that says _are you fucking kidding me, what do you think, you’re the dumbest woman I know_ , glares back down at the mass of pink in her arms, and then frowns back up at Charlotte.

“It’s _tradition_. Darling, someone from the house _always_ wears it to DC.” While that much is certainly true, many of the more, well, _second-wave_ traditions of the Women’s Center rarely appealed much to Erika, so Charlotte tries again: “It’s part of protesting.” 

There. Erika loves protesting, surely–

“Knew I should have moved into the queer house,” Erika’s muttering.

Far from the first time Charlotte’s heard _that_ complaint. All the special interest houses are de facto integrationist insofar as mutants are concerned, this being a historically mutant campus and all–to this day Charlotte has no clue how she conned Erika into moving in with her into _this_ one over Erika’s preferred twin hangouts of the LGBT and Environmentalist collectives–but all the same, she’d really rather not hear this old argument again, now.

Charlotte sighs, and tries to look as dejected as possible. Not an easy task, when you’re still trying not to smile at your tough girlfriend holding on to a decades-old vagina costume like it’s a bomb, but one must _try_.

“Well, then… I guess I can’t give you your reward,” she sighs.

Erika frowns at her again. “Reward?”

“I’m just saying, I can make it worth your while.”

Pausing, Erika appears to mull over that one. “Why don’t you wear it, yourself?” she asks, after a moment. Charlotte tries very hard not to grin–surely Erika can see it’s built for someone a _bit_ taller. Good as capitulation, Charlotte thinks.

Gesturing at her chair, Charlotte shrugs. “Labia would get caught in the wheels-”

“Charlotte! For the love of–” Erika huffs, staring upward, and Charlotte can’t help smiling when she’s looking away. For someone so out and proud, Erika sure can blush at a simple factual statement about a silly costume.

“Just try it,” Charlotte says, thinking _really, you’ll be thanking me_ at Erika.

Erika shrugs off her leather jacket, and climbs in the costume just long enough to discover what Charlotte knew from the get-go: it fits Erika’s rangy frame perfectly.

“I’m not promising I’ll wear it to DC,” she grumbles, shoving her jeans down to her knees and hopping up on a conveniently-situated pile of boxes, stacked to just the right height. If Erika suspects anything about Charlotte planning this particular angle of attack, she’s sure not thinking about it _now_ , as Charlotte slots herself between Erika’s legs.

“Of course not,” Charlotte says, kissing wetly up Erika’s outspread thighs. She brushes her lips against Erika’s cunt, too light to do much more than tease, before pulling away to speak–

Erika reaches down and cups the nape of Charlotte’s neck, gentle even in her impatience. “Quit teasing. And tradition be damned–if you say one word about that costume now, I’m sending it through a wormhole.”

 _And well_ , Charlotte thinks, bringing her hands up to spread Erika open a bit more and go down on her properly, _that’s probably fair_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Inspirational vagina costume gif!](http://38.media.tumblr.com/8b18b6c01ee1989b0fc7a3d4b9a94fcb/tumblr_inline_o0c58oWmrR1r2txzu_500.gif)
> 
> (and don’t tell Charlotte but we all know: Erika moved in to whichever house had an available first-floor accessible double room. ;) )


	2. Charles/Erik, modern AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content note: somnophilia.

Over the months they've been dating, Charles made it a sort of mission of his to introduce Erik to new experiences. It started on their first night together ("You've never seen _Jaws_?" Charles had said, mouth falling open, right before he wheeled himself over to his apartment's DVD rack) and it's only grown since. 

Sometimes Erik can't help but fight it a little--it can be a little too much, _Charles_ can be a little too much, and the satisfaction and pleasure Charles takes in presenting Erik with the new things can be irritating and endearing at the same. Erik's not Charles' kept boy or charity case. He doesn't need Charles to redeem his deprived life, and sometimes he thinks Charles might forget that.

For the most part, though, Erik's used to it.

Still, waking up with Charles's mouth on his dick--that's a surprise.

He had been under the impression he was just having a really good dream, but no, he's definitely awake. 

Erik props himself up on his elbows, so he can getter a better view down the length of his body. Charles is halfway down the bed, lying on his side. His hair's overdue for a cut and it's falling into his face, but Erik can tell his eyes are closed and he's seen Charles blow him enough times by now that he can fill in the fine details. The expression that Charles always gets, like he's practically blissed out. 

_I'm glad you decided to join me_ , Charles says, mental words seeped in humor. _I was starting to think my efforts were going unappreciated. I've been at it awhile._

Erik would like to say something smart in return, but he can't quite come with anything more coherent than "Fuck." He's close already--Charles really must have been working on him for awhile, and even that thought's arousing and confusing and exciting and scary all at once, thinking about Charles working him while he's at his most vulnerable.

But last night when Charles was fucking him, Erik had told him, hadn't he? That he trusted Charles. That his body was his to do what he wanted with.

Charles scratches his nails in lightly across Erik's hip, the same time he swallows down again, taking Erik in to the root. Erik comes hard, with a bitten-back shout. As soon as he gets his breath back, he slides down the bed and gets his hand on the back of Charles's skull to pull him in for a deep kiss.

Charles is smiling when Erik lets him go again. "I wasn't sure you would remember that," he confesses. "You were a little distracted at the time."

"I remember," Erik says. 

Charles’s smile widens, which Erik can only take to mean there are even more new experiences in store.


	3. Erik/Moira, XMFC canon-verse

It’s not often they’re alone. Her sympathies and lack of disclosing _everything_ she ought aside, Moira has to at least keep up the semblance of being a honest field agent; for his part, Erik is forever engrossed in either training or Charles.

But when they _are_ , whenever they _do_ get the time… 

It’s always, always this.

Usually _exactly_ this, she realizes blearily, her head lolled back against the wall. There’s a bed not five feet from them, but nonetheless she’s in the same position as always: standing with one leg thrown over Lehnsherr’s shoulder, braced against a wall while Lehnsherr shoves his face against her cunt. 

Digging her fingers harder into his shoulder only makes him grunt, a rough, appreciative noise. _There’s a bed right there_ , she considers saying. It’d be so easy to yank him off, to sprawl on a mattress likely worth a year’s pay, on a four-poster bed that outdates the nation. To enjoy a second of luxury while they can have it, to relax into an orgasm instead of going in fighting, instead of treating it like another checkpoint on a mission.

Under her, Lehnsherr pulls back a moment, just long enough to drag in a few breaths. Perfect moment to get on the bed, she thinks. Let him catch his air at the same time, it’s not every day you have a mansion at your disposal.

She tangles a fist into his dishevelled hair, hauls him in tight up against her wet cunt.

Not every day you have a mansion, not every day you have a bed, but fact is now this is just how she’s wired. This is just how it’s good, now: quick and aggressive and demanding, no worrying about subtleties or attachment. And with Lehnsherr–fuck, annoying as it may be, it’s the _best_. He’s a fast learner, determined and vicious in his approach to sex as Moira herself. He’s good with his hands and mouth, obviously practiced. And he never _presumes_ anything from in return. By now his fly’s undone, his shoulders had been shifting under her hands just a moment ago as he jerked off in the same brisk rhythm he always has. But as she starts grinding down on him, tensing as she starts to come–he grabs her by both hips, pulling her in, sucking her clit.

Her orgasm hits hard, the edge between pleasure and overstimulation a sharp and sudden drop. She shoves Lehnsherr off, and he rocks back a little. His face is ruddy and slick, and he looks up at her with an expression that’s infuriatingly smug.

It takes her a second to catch her breath. She knows by now, a second’s all you get sometimes–particularly here, where waiting too long would be a fate worse than death, would mean Lehnsherr opening his mouth to _talk_ –and she’s still unsteady as she gets her leg off his shoulder.

“Get on the bed already,” she tells him, gritting it out, trying to ignore how shaky she still sounds. “And we’ll see how long you last.”


	4. Charles/Erik, modern AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content note: filming a sex tape.

Charles was sitting on the edge of the bed when Erik came out from the bathroom.

"Don't be nervous," Charles said.

"I'm not nervous," Erik snapped back.

Charles raised one eyebrow in his stupid smug _I'm-a-telepath-remember?_ look that Erik knew far too well. 

"Shut up."

"We don't have to do this if you're uncomfortable, you know," Charles said, for what had to be the twentieth time in the last two days.

"I'm not uncomfortable," Erik said. He untied his robe and climbed onto the mattress, settling himself up against the headboard, his legs open wide. He was mostly hard already. Charles had suggested the possibility of supplementing his arousal by way of pills, but that was where Erik drew the line. They'd made out for a long time to get it started, and when they separated so Erik could freshen up in the bathroom and Charles could set up the camera, Erik had stroked himself up a little more, too, just to make sure.

Erik wrapped his hand around his cock now, watching as Charles stood up again and stripped. The camera was already on, he noticed belatedly, but then they were going to have to edit it fairly extensively anyway, weren't they, for it to be good? Erik focused back on Charles's body as it was revealed: broad shoulders, strong arms, sturdy thighs. He was wearing pastel briefs, and the front bulged out obscenely; Charles was already aroused, too.

 _You always did get off on being watched_ , Erik thought, and Charles flashed him a quick grin.

 _Whose idea was this in the first place, hmm?_

_I was joking_ , Erik said, which was only half-true.

Charles didn't argue, just crawls up on the bed to join him. He planted himself between Erik's legs and went in for the kiss, long and deep and wet from the very start. His hands were busy roaming over Erik's skin, and Erik didn't hold back either, skimming down Charles's back to grope Charles's firm round ass.

Erik hoped the recording caught the noise that wrung from Charles, that choked-off moan.

Erik could keep kissing Charles like this for hours--they _had_ done just this for hours before--but after a few minutes Charles pulled away, gratifyingly flushed and breathless. He kissed his way down Erik's chest, thumbing at his nipples as he went, stopping to tongue at Erik's navel.

 _That's new_ , Erik thought, a little amused.

 _Shut up_ , Charles said, _it looks good_. He punctuated his response with a sharp nip at Erik's hip and scooted down the last few inches to Erik's cock.

Charles wrapped his palm around the base and, closing his eyes, nuzzled against Erik's groin. The head of Erik's cock brushed against his lips, nose, cheekbone, and when Charles sighed the tiny huff of air just added to the tease. Erik let out a frustrated noise and thrust his hips a little pointedly. The only effect it seemed to have was to cause Charles to let out a quiet laugh. 

Charles turned his head, kissing down the length of the shaft. He pushed himself up from the bed a moment, shifting position to get more comfortable before he resettled himself on the bed. His hand was still holding Erik's erection steady, and now Charles finally opened his mouth wide, taking in the head and beginning to suck.

 _Put your hands in my hair_ , Charles ordered, and Erik didn't complain, just obeyed, curling his hands into the thick silky hair. Not pulling, just holding on Charles began to bob his head, more of Erik's cock disappearing into his mouth each time he went down.

It really did make a great picture. Erik had to admit that.

"God, your mouth," he muttered. He hadn't meant to utter anything out loud, but he couldn't help it. Charles tilted his head at that, meeting Erik's eyes to smile at him through his mouthful of dick. Erik groaned and tightened his grip on his hair.

If he was going to speak, he might as well choose what he said. "You think you can take it all?" Erik said, not loudly but not too softly either.

There was a flash of surprise from Charles, though he didn't falter in his rhythm. _I know I can take it all_ , Charles replied, _and so do you. You've certainly seen it enough times by now._

_But whoever's watching hasn't._

Charles made a small hum of acknowledgment, vibrations that made Erik shake from the inside out. Erik curled his toes tightly down against the soft sheets as Charles seemed to double down on his efforts, faster and deeper, until Erik's cock was buried completely in his throat.

Charles paused. Erik held himself as still as he could, trying to concentrate on Charles's hands painfully tight where they gripped Erik's hip, the harsh whistle of Charles's breath from his nose.

After a few seconds, Charles began to move again.

 _You close, darling?_ Charles's mental voice was starting to feel almost as urgent as Erik himself.

Erik didn't have to answer; of course Charles already knew. But he grunted out an affirmation anyway, and it seemed like only a moment later that Charles was pulling off, kneeling up as his hand replaced his mouth on Erik's wet cock.

"Come on," Charles said, in his raspy, ruined voice, as he began jerking Erik off hard and fast and aggressive. His eyes were fixed on Erik's, and he was still licking his lips, like he was still tasting him. "Come for me, come already…"

Erik couldn't help but do exactly that, all over Charles's stomach and chest and collarbone, exactly where Charles had been aiming. He made some kind of noise, but he wasn't sure what. He supposed he would find out when he saw the tape.

Charles sat back on his heels, breathless and panting just as heavily as Erik. He was still hard, too, Erik noticed, and as Erik watched, Charles swiped his hand through the come on his chest, closed his eyes, and stuck his hand down the underwear he still somehow was wearing.

"Fuck, Charles," Erik said. His voice was still a little unsteady.

"Mmm?" Charles said. His hand was moving beneath the fabric, not stroking but more like a slow massage.

Erik yanked Charles in close and flipped them over, so they were lying full length on the mattress with Charles on his back, all before Charles had a chance to react. It wasn't often Charles was distracted enough to let Erik get away with surprising him, so Erik always felt triumphant when he managed it. Charles let out a startled laugh.  
"See, don't I have good ideas?" Charles said, smug as ever.

"It was my idea," Erik reminded him, and he reached out his powers to turn off the camera as he kissed Charles again.


	5. Charles/Erik, fantasy AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content note: nymph!Charles and centaur!Erik.

As far as Charles is concerned, this is plain old common courtesy.

“Oh, come on. Just a quick go,” he suggests, twining one of the long, watery curls of his hair. Honestly, far as his (immortal and utterly infallible) memory goes, this is the first someone’s thought to protest.

The centaur crosses his arms, one of his forelegs scraping in the dirt.

“No,” he insists. Again.

Charles gives him the sweetest, most innocent look he can muster. “Nymphs are nymphs,” he says, before waving one hand. If this is all the protest is about, he’s going to be truly appalled at the lapse in centaur culture. You expect this behaviour from humans, but… 

He makes the flat planes of his chest shift like the tides, forming breasts; he crosses his legs. “And mouths, my lovely traveler, are simply mouths.”

The centaur looks, if anything, less enthused. “I realize that. That’s why I said no.”

With a frown, Charles changes back. “Then you’ll have to go a different way,” he says, archly. “You know there’s always a price to be paid, and this is the payment I want.”

“Why?” the traveler asks. He seems truly perplexed, though he’s a thrilling specimen: a bay dun from the waist down, ginger hair and beard to match above, less chest hair than many of the centaurs of Charles’s former acquaintance. “It doesn’t seem… _comfortable_ ,” he adds.

 _Possible_ , he means.

Charles smiles, because isn’t that sweet? Been a long time since he’s met someone who _hadn’t_ been with a nymph before. Trinkets and gold only have so much value when you’re confined to a copse of trees or a body of water. Out in the sticks like Charles’s river is, if you’re collecting a toll it’s only really worth asking for something _fun_. (It’s a rare thing for a traveler to make it past Emma’s intact; the centaur must have kept to the more perilous—albeit less risqué—mountain paths.)

“I’m water, darling,” he points out, drawing more of his river up in his form; building himself taller, forming legs and tail and hooves, making himself into a centaur. “Let’s just say… I can _accommodate_.”

The centaur snorts, and shakes his head. For a brief moment, Charles thinks he’ll turn and go—it’s not _impossible_ to pass around Charles’s river, just means a few weeks extra travel and getting up high enough into the mountains to where the water stays frozen, up next to the glacier that feeds his powers—since the centaur certainly seems stubborn enough to make that journey.

Then he approaches, slowly. “I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this,” he says as, one hoof at a time, he steps into the waters.

Charles trots closer, ungainly in this form, and the traveler—Erik, Charles realizes, finally able to know him now that he’s in Charles’s midst—laughs. “If you insist on this, be however you’re most comfortable,” he says, and Charles grins and shifts his form again.

“Thank you,” he says, leaning down to get situated between Erik’s rear legs. Whatever his protests, the centaur’s still _demonstrably_ interested. “I think you’ll enjoy the fee.”

Charles may be _entirely comprised_ of the substance, true. But all the same, seeing that huge prick, his mouth waters.


	6. Charles/Erik, modern AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content note: both characters are over 18, though Charles is still in high school.

Charles is still working on the breakfast tray when Erik's roommate enters the kitchen. He doesn't say anything to Charles as he winds his way around the small space, carefully avoiding knocking into Charles, but then he doesn't really have to; his mind is loud with the same dismal and obnoxious disapproval it always broadcasts whenever he catches sight of Charles in the apartment. Which isn't *that* unusual of an occurrence, given both that it's a tiny apartment and that Charles and Erik have been dating now for almost six months. 

Charles makes his escape as quickly as he can, given that neither coffee nor toast (the two main components of his shallow yet solid breakfast game) are things he can rush, carefully balancing the tray down the hallway to Erik's room.

He'd been hoping Erik would still be asleep by the time he finished, but he hadn't been expecting it, so the fact that Erik's still in bed is nice. Erik works weird hours--not only are his days off in the middle of the week instead of the weekend like normal people, but he's usually up at three-thirty for work and back home early afternoon, so his sleep schedule is off-kilter. It's unusual to see him sleep past sunrise.

Erik's lying on his back, hand resting low on his stomach while he stares up at the ceiling. He immediately sits up as Charles comes inside, though, and his powers take the tray from Charles's grip and float it over to the nightstand as Charles closes the door behind him.

"Why are you carrying a cookie sheet?" Erik says.

"Breakfast in bed," Charles explains. 

Erik shakes his head, but he takes one of the mugs of coffee from the tray and begins to gulp from it. "You should be gone by now, shouldn't you? I thought you had a test first period."

"It was a quiz, and I'm skipping today." Charles ties back one of the curtains and opens the blinds, which causes the light level in the room to go from almost black to reasonably bright. "It snowed today and I'm not walking three miles back to campus in these shoes. So unless you want me to hitchhike…"

"You're not hitchhiking," Erik says.

"Or you could give me a ride on your bike," Charles suggests, more because he knows Erik will reject that, too, than from any actual interest. Erik has let Charles ride on the back of his motorcycle a grand total of two times since they've been together, and never at night or on a street with traffic, let alone on ice and snow.

Erik sets down his coffee. His face is curled up unhappily, which is annoying and pretty much the opposite of what Charles had planned. Erik's pretty good at keeping his thoughts relatively private, not as loud and unfiltered as most people do, but Charles knows exactly what he's thinking anyway.

The funny thing, if you can call it funny, is that the reason Azazel is so judgy and dickish about Charles and Erik dating is that he's convinced that Charles is going to somehow get Erik into trouble. Which is stupid, for any number of reasons. Erik is less than two years older than Charles to begin with, and Charles is past his eighteenth birthday now, too. He's graduating in a few months. And even more than that, he's *good* for Erik. He knows it. He saved Erik's life the first time they met, jumping into the river to keep him from drowning, and he knows Erik better than anybody, he cares about him more, he sees stuff Erik doesn't let anybody else see. Charles would never let Erik get hurt.

Meanwhile, Erik worries about the opposite--that Charles is the one who's going to be in trouble. Which is, perhaps, equally stupid.

"They're not going to kick me out for playing hooky one day," Charles says. He climbs onto the bed, which is a little too thin and a little too lumpy but beloved anyway, and crawls into Erik's lap. "I'm valedictorian, you know."

Erik snorts. "Yes, I know," he says. "You mention it enough." You also sneak out from your dorm room at least one night a week and sometimes more, Erik is thinking, but since he doesn't say it out loud, Charles doesn't have to acknowledge it; those are the rules.

"Stop thinking," Charles says, pressing a kiss to the line crossing Erik's brow, the one that makes him look years older than he really is, like he's old and grown, instead of not even old enough to drink. Erik should be in college, fooling around and not worrying about things like he does. He's smarter than ninety-nine percent of the people Charles knows. "It's your day off, and it's my snow day. We're going to have fun."

"Fun?" Erik says, playing along, voice flat and eyebrows raised. "I'm not sure I know *fun*."

"I'll teach you," Charles promises, and he delivers with a kiss.

He loses the upper hand almost immediately, of course, as Erik uses his impressive strength to flip them over. The bed gives a muffled thump at their weight, and Charles can't help laughing, loud and almost shrieking, as Erik kisses his neck and runs his hands over his ribs and stomach, catching all the spots he *knows* are ticklish. Charles has barely even caught his breath before Erik scoots all the way down the bed, pulling Charles's sweatpants down with him and sucking Charles's cock into his mouth.

It's fast, almost embarrassingly so, except why should Charles be embarrassed, that his boyfriend knows him so well, wants him so much, is this good at it? He shouldn't be. Mostly he's not. But shit, it's really fast, Erik's mouth on his dick and his hands playing with Charles's dick and the really fucking filthy stuff Erik purposely thinks when he's going down, just to mess with Charles. Charles kicks him as hard as he can with the heel slung over Erik's shoulder, but it just makes Erik double down, and Charles is yelling his name really, really loud as he comes in a giant overwhelming rush of delight.

Come to think of it, Charles considers as he comes back down from the high of his orgasm, there's probably more than one reason why Azazel hates him.


	7. Charles/Erik, fantasy AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content notes: vampire!Charles, werewolf!Erik, some background Erik/Magda.

The fact Erik manages to drive at all after the full moon is a never-ending source of wonder.

Much less that he makes it the full six hours from woods to city, even scratched up and still splattered with blood. Even if the roads are icy and he’s exhausted from running his pack…

Every time, Erik comes back, soon as he’s got the mind to drive.

“God, you stink,” Charles growls, ripping at Erik’s jeans.

As usual, Erik’s tracked mud in. All down the hallway rugs, all through the darkened bedroom, he’d barely yanked off his disgusting boots before he pulled aside the curtains surrounding Charles’s bed.

Charles may technically only be alive with the last fading of twilight, but he is suddenly, dizzyingly awake.

“Can’t you hose yourself down?” he asks, throwing Erik’s jeans and boxers aside. His shins are still muddy, there’s a thin scratch down one of his lean thighs. “Just once? For me?”

Erik’s laugh is still rough, vaguely animal. He lets Charles shred one of the arms of his flannel shirt, and he doesn’t bruise when Charles grabs at one wrist with all his preternatural strength.

“You love it,” Erik says. He fights a little under Charles’s hold, and Charles growls again, his teeth aching as his fangs extend.

God. He shoves at Erik harder, hauls himself up, careless of how his unfeeling legs pin Erik down. He’s scented blood, Erik’s and that of dead game, and he’s thrilling in the vicious strength of Erik’s body. Like this, right after a full moon, there’s no need to hold back. Erik’s wolfsblood is still coursing, he’s strong as any vampire.

Charles never wants anything more.

“It’s disgusting,” he hisses, pushing Erik’s knees open. “What is reek, skunk? You’re tracking dead skunk into _my_ sanctuary?”

Baring his teeth, Erik makes a token last struggle—all his muscles straining as he jumps to snap at Charles—before he relaxes under Charles’s weight.

“Please. It’s still alive. Let it spray me instead of the idiot pup trying to make a meal of it,” he admits, and Charles can’t help laughing.

“How magnanimous,” he says, pinning Erik’s thighs further apart and settling between his legs.

Erik’s prick is huge, blood-engorged, and Charles licks at his fangtips.

Part of the rush of these nights is the fight for dominance, the struggle that everyone assured would surely be fatal when he and Erik first met. One of the leaders of a pack and the current head of the Xavier clan? Werewolves and vampires aren’t unfriendly as humans seem fond of portraying in their media, but it’s still a bit of a powerplay.

Still, he’s been with Erik long enough now, he can’t help feeling a little sentimental during these times, too. Erik’s good with his pack, sweet to a fault with the pups, and maybe Charles should be more gentle with him even if he comes in reeking of—

“Magda sends her regards,” Erik says, and all right forget _gentleness_. Charles glares up at Erik, shows his fangs, and Erik tips his head back. He’s conceding, showing throat, but it’s too late for that. _That comment when he still smells_ … It’s too far.

Charles grips the root of Erik’s cock roughly, and he doesn’t make any effort to shield his fangs when he takes it in. Erik hisses, the scent of fear and arousal heavy in the air.

The thing about werewolves is, the wolf mates for keeps. The human, meanwhile, might be more swayed by logic and reason and the fact you can stay friends with a person even if you drive each other completely bonkers as a couple. Magda and Erik spend most of the month as amicable exes with joint custody of four lovely kids, but for a few days—for a few days, Erik’s out there running the woods with his _mate_.

Charles would be lying if there’s not something animal that arises in him, too, every time Erik returns. _You’re mine_ , Charles sends him, sucking Erik off harshly. Erik’s breath is rasping, he groans deeply. Charles gags on the thick head of his prick, pulls off with a cough.

“Say it,” he rasps, burying his head back against Erik’s groin before he can reply; licking around the base of Erik’s cock where his lips could barely reach, tugging Erik’s heavy balls into his mouth one at a time. Letting his spit, the familiar scent of his own venom, wash away all else—

“Yes,” Erik whines. His blood-stained hands are grappling at Charles’s shoulders, trying to claw at cool undead flesh with blunt human nails. “Fuck, Charles—”

Against his tongue, Charles can feel Erik’s balls tightening, he can smell the impending rush of Erik’s come as sure as he can sense it in his mind. Erik’s blood is pulsing—so close, so close—and Charles trembles with his own need.

 _Do it_ , Erik thinks, language failing him. It’s near enough for Charles to come, the sudden burst of wild desire, frantic in Erik’s mind.

Charles groans, turning his head slightly. The thrum of Erik’s pulse is so strong, just there in the hollow of his thigh. Charles’s fangs are fully everted, and sometimes he’s sure this want will be the death of him.

 _Feed_ , Erik sends. It’s less word than it is sensation, primal command, and Charles holds Erik’s thigh with one hand, cups his prick with the other, and bites.

He’d never dare this any further than the full moon. The femoral opens so easily, gushes so readily, Erik would bleed out in moments without the remaining strength of his wolf form. The blood pulses in great bounds, and it’s all Charles can do to swallow it all down. He moans, the heat filling his stomach and his chest, his heart pounding with Erik’s blood. He swallows, and swallows, and Erik’s cock is spasming in his hand, Erik’s groaning like an animal being bled.

Erik blacks out before Charles finishes. Humming, Charles blissfully licks at the puncture wounds, feeling the flutter of Erik’s pulse under his tongue.

It used to be, this would terrify him. He’d wonder if he went too far, if this would be the time he drained Erik past return.

But already, he can feel Erik’s heart beating slower, steadier. Already, Erik’s starting to stir. And as Charles kisses up over his stomach—to lick him clean elsewhere—he knows it’s only a matter of moments before he finds himself pinned by his mate.


	8. Charles/Erik, fantasy AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content note: werewolves.

Normally, his stamina is something Erik prides himself on. Not merely sexually, but--not excluding sexually, either.

The morning after the hunt, though, is different. Everytime. He's human again, they both are, in bodies and thoughts, and yet… There's something left from the night before, something of the wildness still within them.

The first thing they do when they wake up, naked and hungry, filthy and scraped all over--the first thing they do, with very few exceptions, is fuck. 

It's not better than the sex they have the rest of the month, but it's not worse, either. Just different. 

This morning Charles is on his hands and knees, in the rich soft mud of the woods of his estate, and Erik is sinking into him too fast, too roughly--Erik knows already that Charles is going to be bitching most of the day, when they're back to their normal selves and the soreness has set in, but for now Charles is just as mad for it as Erik, twisting wildly under Erik's hands. Erik holds him tightly, thrusts into him with all his strength and his weight, clamps down his teeth on the bare freckled skin of Charles's shoulder. 

(Even now it reminds him of the first time--positions reversed, Charles's bite marking him forever, changing everything. The night Erik acknowledged to himself all of it: his love for Charles, but even more shocking, his trust in him.)

In their bed, taking it slow, Erik can make Charles come three times in a night before he lets himself get off once. Out here, with the vague impressions of last night still in his mind, skittering away whenever he touches too close, Erik comes almost immediately, spilling himself into Charles's hot body.

Charles lets out a frustrated keen as Erik pulls out, but he settles back as Erik pushes him onto his back. Erik leans over to take Charles's dick into his mouth; it's thick and blood-hot and the taste of bitter and salt is strong on Erik's tongue. Charles's ass is slick now with Erik's come, and it's easy to push in his fingers at the same time he swallows Charles down into his throat, stroking along the spot that makes Charles shout and gouge his nails into Erik's shoulders where he's holding on. He's broken skin--Erik can smell the blood--and later on that will mean disinfectants and bandages and all those other practical considers but for right now it's just another thing overwhelming Erik's still-heightened senses.

 _Come, come_ , Erik thinks, though he doesn't know how well Charles's telepathy is working at this point. It doesn't matter: Charles can't last much longer than Erik did, not like now, not like this, and it seems like only a few moments before his orgasm hits as well. 

Erik swallows what he can, lets the rest spill from the sides of his mouth into the dirt as he pulls off, sucking in deep draughts of air. 

"Come here, my love," Charles says aloud, the first words either of them have said since before the transformation, and Erik gently removes his fingers and lets himself be tugged up the length of Charles's body to collapse beside him.

Fucking first, every time. Next up, Erik expects, Charles will complain of how famished he is, or maybe how much he needs to bathe--it's equal money which it will be--but first they have another few minutes like this, quiet and intertwined and in-between. He closes his eyes and breathes in the scent of the two of them together and indulges himself in not thinking at all.


	9. Charles/Erik/Magda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content note: pregnancy sex.

“And how, exactly, are you expecting that to work?”

There’s only so many positions friendly to three participants, less for one to attempt going down on the others while they’re trying to have intercourse. Less again, for the fact none of them are getting any younger and there’s only so many comfortable positions for any of them at all, but particularly for Charles, and less again for—

“Just lay back, how’s this so complicated?” Magda asks, before Charles can answer.

Erik, wisely, says nothing. He lays back, letting Magda straddle him and very, very carefully, he doesn’t wince or gasp.

Okay, so yes: this is the obvious position. Erik against the pillows, Magda’s back against his chest as she rides him, Charles sprawled between their legs. It’s not an unfamiliar position, and   
honestly everything would be perfect if only Erik could breathe.

«Think of it as an—added challenge,» Charles thinks at him. Erik grunts, trying not to make it terribly obvious that it’s as much Magda settling her weight on him as it is her cunt hot around him; as it is Charles’s hands, tracing wonderingly and slow over where they’re joined.

«Don’t say a damn word,» he sends back, rubbing his hands over Magda’s heavy stomach on his way to cup her breasts. It’s been almost two months since he’d last been able to resist the feeling of her huge stomach, the astonishing weight of it—

He gasps, a soft noise, as Charles’s tongue swipes broadly up his balls and the base of his cock… only to wheeze airlessly as Magda writhes back against him when Charles licks up higher.

“You know it was _you_ that got me in this situation, _you’ll_ put up with it,” she tells him, and the tone of Charles’s thoughts seem inclined to agree. And as Charles keeps licking and sucking kisses against them, as Erik rallies all his strength to keep fucking up into his wonderful, maddening, beautiful and _ridiculously pregnant_ wife—well, he finds he doesn’t really have the energy to argue with either of them.


	10. Charles/Erik, high school AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content notes: characters are high school aged, semi-public sex, trans character.

“Shut up,” Erik growls. His hands are as demanding as his powers, pulling urgently at Charles’s belt and the buttons of his fly, and the focused enthusiasm of his mind is a glittering, intoxicating thing.

Charles bites his lip. He wants to watch everything Erik’s doing—the way he’s tugging at Charles’s boxers, how _sure_ he is, reaching in to take hold of Charles’s prick—but it’s all he can do to glance away from the bright light of the gym for a second, from watching for movement out there beyond the cave formed by metal bleachers.

“Erik—”

He means to protest, he really does. 

There’s a million and one reasons they shouldn’t do this, starting with _they’ve barely done more than kiss_ and ending with _technically they should be playing dodgeball_ and all that comes out as Erik gets on his knees and takes Charles’s half-hard cock in his mouth is:

“—oh my god. Just, like. Stop if I say?”

He can’t sound anything less than completely panicked. Whatever his hormones might be up for, fact remains, his dick sort of runs on its own agenda.

He dares a glance down at Erik, and is entirely unsurprised to see he’s being glared at. «The fuck do you take me for,» Erik thinks, and Charles’s breath huffs out in a shaky, nervous laugh.

“Oh, god. I know, I know,” he whispers. Erik frowns, thinking only two words, very strongly—«Shut. Up.»—as he thrusts his face down on Charles’s cock.

Charles twines one hand in Erik’s shaggy hair, grips hard at his shoulders with the other, and tries not to make a single noise.

Beyond the bleachers, it’s more than loud enough to cover his whispers, his moans, his gasps. The scuff of sneakers, the thwack of dodgeballs against the floor and wall, the shouts and screams of their fellow students, the shrill noise of instructor’s whistle… He could probably _yell_ Erik’s praise, and no one would notice.

Truth be told, no one would notice them no matter what they got up to. A pair of logistical nightmares for mandatory phys ed, the kid they won’t find activities and the one they won’t find a locker room, they’ve been _watching_ dodgeball for two years. 

All the same, Charles’s heart pounds. He tries to reassure himself—they’re invisible even when they’re where they always are, sitting at the sidelines—but he’s hyper aware of the gaps in the bleachers, of how it would look to be caught like this. 

Of how Erik would look, of how he’d hate to be seen—

Erik pulls off with a wet, slick pop. His lips are spit-slick, just a little swollen, and okay if Charles hadn’t felt all of what he’d been doing with that mouth _seeing it_ is _really_ doing it for him. “I don’t care,” Erik rasps, pumping Charles one-handed. His voice is rough, lower than it’s ever been, and he leans in to lick broadly at the head of Charles’s cock.  
«Just come for me,» he says, and Charles groans softly, pulls Erik down on him, and does.


	11. Charles/Erik, DOFP canonverse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content note: plane sex, angst.

"Be quiet," Charles whispers, "if you make any noise, I'll stop."

Erik nods. _I'll be quiet_ , he thinks, sending the thought to Charles before he remembers it won't do any good, that the thought isn't going anywhere, trapped here inside his own mind.

It's only been a few hours since he saw Charles in that CIA kitchen, dripping wet and standing upright and the last person in the world Erik would have expected. Erik's already lost track of how many times he's failed, trying to communicate with him, even though he knows better. Even though he knows Charles has shut him out, shut them _all_ out.

It was second nature once, after all, if only for those few sweet months.

He tries to cover his mistake, catching Charles's mouth in another whiskey-tinged kiss, but Charles pushes him away and back. There's not much room on the jet's slim couch; Erik is half-lying and half-sitting, Charles settled awkwardly on his lap as they kiss, but now Charles slips off and onto the floor between Erik's legs.

The asshole from the future, Logan, is asleep in the chair a handful of meters away. Beast is piloting the airplane, not much further. 

They shouldn't--

He had just wanted--he wasn't trying to convince Charles to have sex with him, not precisely. It hadn't been a thought at the top of his mind. He had wanted to sit across from Charles and see Charles look at him without that sharp broken look in his eyes. 

He remembers how Charles used to look at him, before everything else happened. He hadn't believed it could last; he'd always known Charles would realize the mistake he was making in looking at Erik like that, and he'd been right at the end, hadn't he?

(Charles might not like to admit it, but Erik has always been right.)

But chess lead to a kiss, and the first kiss led to more, and now Charles is on his knees, pulling Erik's cock out of his pants and lowering his head, and this isn't something Erik can say no to.

Charles's hair is soft under Erik's hands, just as soft as Erik remembers it from a decade back. The scratch of his beard against Erik's inner thighs, though, that's new. Charles had always been so diligent in keeping himself clean-shaven. During the days of their road trip, they had shared their hotel bathrooms, Erik in the shower as Charles shaved before the mirror. 

Charles's mouth is just as hot, just as skilled as it ever was, and yet--

Erik remembers the last time, in Charles's bed the night before Cuba. It had been slow and sweet and Charles had raised his hand up to twine his fingers together with Erik's, an echo of the way his mind softly wrapped together with Erik's, far more intimate than Erik ever imagined sex could be. 

This, now, fast and secretive and vaguely tawdry, this isn't what Erik wanted, but it's probably still more than he deserves. Erik can't afford to be choosy. He'll take what he can get. 

_I love you_ , he thinks fiercely at Charles, and this time he is grateful in the knowledge that Charles can't here.

It's been so long since he's been touched; it's no time at all before Charles forces the orgasm out of him. He barely notices Charles spitting into the abandoned ascot, before Charles is climbing back into his lap. Charles's body is tense all over, but his kiss is still soft. Erik barely has his hand between them, stroking at his cock, before Charles is coming, too, with a soft groan that Erik can only hope the others don't hear.

Charles rests his head on Erik's shoulder, breathing heavily. "Tomorrow," he murmurs, "tomorrow. We'll fix it together. You and I, and Raven. We'll save it, Erik."

He's facing away; his hair is hanging down. Erik can't see his face at all.

It's probably for the best.

Erik swallows. "Yes," he says.


	12. Charles/Erik, XMFC canonverse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content note: sex pollen.

Charles wakes up to Erik's teeth nibbling his neck and Erik's fingers stroking slow circles around his nipples.

"Not _again_ ," Charles groans.

The room still smells like sex. The hotel will probably have to fumigate when they leave. The sheets will have to be burned; Charles can't imagine there's any amount of cleaning that will manage to leave them usable after this. He and Erik have barely left the bed for the better part of twenty-four hours, quick trips to the bathroom or to fill up glasses of water to drink, and not much else. 

"Sorry," Erik murmurs, hot and damp against Charles's throat. And Charles can feel that he _is_ sorry, and maybe a little ashamed, but it doesn't make him stop what he's doing. "Just--once more, that's it--"

Charles is so tired he can barely think, and every part of his body hurts. It shouldn't even be possible for him to get aroused right now, not after how many times they've been at it today. But he's shivering at the feel of Erik's fingertips already, arching lightly into the touch.

_One day_ , the other mutant had said, when he'd done this to them, whatever _this_ is. It would last a day, and one day has to be nearly up by now, doesn't it?

Erik kisses his way up the line of Charles's jaw, behind his ear. Charles can't hold in the groan.

"I can barely move out after the last round," he points out, though his heart's not in it.

"I can do all the work," Erik says. His voice is low, rough, clipped--he stops moving now, finally, lifts his hands and his mouth both from Charles's body as he waits for an answer. As if they're not both feeling it still, this hot relentless desperation that won't stop building up.

"One more time," Charles says, raising his hands from the bed to squeeze at Erik's shoulders. "And you're doing the work."

Erik kisses him, surprisingly sweet and delicate for all of the strength and arousal in it. Charles runs his hands through Erik's hair, scratching softly the way he's learned Erik likes--he made Erik get off just from that earlier, kissing and his nail on his scalp, the second or third round this morning. 

Erik's the one to break the kiss, breathing heavily as he moves down the bed to take Charles's cock into his mouth. Charles closes his eyes as Erik sucks at him--Erik's being gentle, but it's still almost too much, he's so sensitive after how many times he's already come. Erik tugs at one of Charles's calves, but Charles isn't much help as Erik rearranges his limbs so both legs are slung up over Erik's shoulders, and Erik's hands are wide and steady and firm, clutching Charles's ass.

Charles throws his arm over his eyes and tries to remember to breathe. "You can put your finger in," he says out loud.

Erik does it, almost immediately. More lube would be smarter, but Charles is still just wet enough from earlier that it works, and the feeling of Erik's long nimble finger stroking him inside at the same time Erik's mouth works him--

He comes much harder than he expects to. He's still shaking when he feels Erik's arms around him, clutching closely. He hadn't even noticed Erik moving.

"You smell so good," Erik says hoarsely. "Why do you smell so good?"

Charles swallows. "Just give me a second, and I can do you."

"Too late," Erik says. His hands are still stroking over Charles's sides, skittering over his skin in uneven and unsteady patterns.

"We're almost done," Charles says. "We're almost through it."

He tries, anyway; he's not sure he actually gets the words out before he falls back asleep.


	13. Erik/Magda, AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content note: A/B/O dynamics.

The first time Magda asks, Erik’s shock must have been obvious.

They’re still on the move, holed up in some cheap hotel between one target and the next, and Magda had put it as bluntly as she did anything—

_You’re going hunting, I’m coming with._

_Maybe you’ve got powers, but that doesn’t make you a good shot._

_What, like I’m gonna court an omega out here? Come on, it’s not like we aren’t practically married anyway…_

—and Erik can’t string together a response before she starts talking again.

“You don’t have to,” she says, turning back to the mirror. The bathroom’s all of two strides away from the bed, and she’s putting her hair up for the night, and Erik concentrates very hard on cleaning her rifle.

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to,” he replies. He just didn’t think it was something alphas were interested in. 

Or that was _possible_.

Been interesting enough, the last few months, figuring out how to walk straight.

“If you’re wondering if it’s possible—”

“Of course I’m not,” Erik blusters, setting Magda’s weapons aside. There’s only room enough on the chipped nightstand for her knives. “If you really want to try, get over here already.”

Magda laughs, probably seeing right through him, like she always does. All the same, she takes the two strides from the bathroom door, loosening the tie of her robe as she goes.

“I’m sure you’ll like it,” she says, as she gets up on the bed. He half expects her to crowd him back, to straddle his face and fuck him that way. But he must look unsure, just nervous enough that she lies down beside him instead. She reaches one hand up, and cups the back of his neck. “So get down here, already.”

He shakes his head, but follows her lead, anyway. He’s not surprised to see she’s partially everted, a few inches of still-astonishing deep red flesh already out in the open. Erik never slept with an alpha (or _anyone_ , for that matter) before her and it still seems so surreal, he keeps expecting her to get the memo and realize he’s just a beta.

And as weird as this seems… He can’t help being a bit thankful for the chance to get such a close look at her. He’s probably just staring for a moment, still bewildered by the reality of her alphaness, the way her phallus grows a bit more, slick and curving from just above her wet cunt.

She wraps a leg around his back, nudging him lightly with her heel.

“Didn’t ask you to just look at it,” she says, a little breathy already, and when he leans in and licks a long line up her, she cries out.

Encouraged, he takes her into his mouth. He lets her growing phallus fill his mouth, lets himself gag on the slick length of it, lets her practically crush his head with her strong thighs as she moans.

Sometimes he forgets, this is all new to her, too. And while he might regret this in a few moments, once she swells enough to have him stuck here, he can’t help thinking it’ll be worth the trouble.


End file.
